Prescott caught the flicker in her eyes, and it didn't take a genius to figure out she was clearly up to something. He curled his lips into a faint, mocking smile.

"I'll ask just one more time. Answer me, or else..."

His cold warning hung low in the air, sharp as a knife.

Camila was already sweating bullets. She bit her lip, trying hard to keep her cool.

"It's a misunderstanding-really! I was supposed to help my friend catch her cheating boyfriend, but I walked into the wrong room. I thought you were the jerk. I swear, I didn't lie. Not a word! I'm sorry I yelled at you-I mean it. I genuinely apologize, sir. I'm not here on anyone's orders. I didn't even know who you were before tonight..."

Prescott didn't say a word. His dark, ice-cold eyes stared her down like he was peeling her soul apart.

That gaze made her chest tighten. It was like he could see straight through every layer of her, and it left her rattled.

They were standing too close-so close, in fact, that the light scent on her skin mixed with a faint trace of alcohol hit him head-on. His sharp eyes narrowed even more.

She'd clearly been drinking. But was that weird behavior just liquid courage? Or was she putting on an act?

The tension between them got real thick real fast. The room was dead quiet. You could hear every breath.

Camila was stiff as a board. Twenty years of her life and this was the first time she'd ever been this close to a random guy-and it showed. She was clearly uncomfortable.

She shifted slightly, trying to create some space, but that only made things worse. Her movement looked suspicious in Prescott's eyes.

His expression darkened. Before she had time to react, he grabbed her wrists, twisted them behind her back, and pushed her around, pressing her down with force.

"You're brushing off my warning? Alright then-some people only learn the hard way."

His voice was low and icy, like a warning straight out of a nightmare-chilling and dangerous.

"I-I didn't mean to..."Camila jolted, frozen by the chilling intensity in the man's gaze-and even more mortified by how close he'd pressed up against her. The raw masculine presence surrounding her made her cheeks flush bright red.

Even the sharp, steady beat of his powerful heartbeat echoed against the silence around them, each pulse pounding against her back, making her involuntarily tremble.

Camila started struggling hard. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with this guy? Who did he think she was? How could he get this touchy-feely, this flirty, without warning?

Suddenly, a hand clamped down tightly on her waist, stopping her every move. "Don't move," he said.

His voice was rough, low, and thick with a heat that didn't belong here, brushing against her ear like a spark. She didn't need any experience to know this reaction from Prescott was very... wrong.

The color instantly drained from her face.

Burning with shame and anger, she bit down hard on her lip, her voice shaking with fury. "Let me go, you... you pervert!"

"Oh, I'm the pervert?" Prescott let her go, face dark and unreadable. "Aren't you the one trying to seduce me?"

His voice was icy, like razor-edged frost. But inside, he was rattled.

For the past two years, he'd been completely indifferent to any kind of lust. No matter how seductive the women got, he'd stayed cold, untouched.

Even stranger, the changes in his body over the last six months had been bothering him to no end. And now, totally unexpected, this random woman had managed to light a fire with just one accidental touch.

Prescott's eyes dropped to Camila, scanning her deeply.

His gaze caught on her slightly open neckline, and what it revealed stopped him cold. Her skin was snowy smooth, glowing subtly under the light. Her slender neck, the soft dip of her collarbone leading to hints of generous curves - framed by her long, dark hair falling over both shoulders - the whole picture had this innocent allure that somehow hit him in all the wrong ways.

The more he looked, the harder it became to tear his eyes away. His throat dried up, and that barely contained fire inside him surged hotter.

There was no doubt - this strangely familiar-eyed woman had somehow unlocked a side of him long asleep.

And maybe, just maybe, she was the key to figuring out what the hell had been going on with him lately.

Whether she truly didn't know who he was, or was just putting on an act, didn't matter now.

He had no plans to let her walk away that easily.

"You're saying I tried to seduce you? That's insane. I don't even know your last name, first name, or where the heck you live. I'd have to be out of my mind to-"

Before Camila could finish, her words caught in her throat. She glanced down and froze; at some point, her neckline had come undone, revealing way too much. Her face flushed with rage as she hurried to button herself back up, shooting Prescott a fierce glare.

"What the hell are you staring at? Have some decency."

The men in suits around them didn't dare breathe too loud. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. They were stunned. Their boss had always avoided women like the plague-when had he ever been the one getting brushed off?

This chick must have nerves of steel.

But Prescott didn't get mad. His dark eyes locked on hers, steady and unreadable as they flickered with a strange mix of curiosity, surprise, and something hot and heavy you couldn't pin down.

Finally, he said slowly, "You're right. Maybe this really was just a mix-up. A pretty damn elaborate one."

Camila felt like every hair on her body stood on end. The look he gave her-it was like she'd accidentally poked a sleeping lion. The kind that might pounce and tear her apart at any moment.

She looked away in a panic, voice shaky but fast: "Well, since this was all clearly a misunderstanding, we're good now, right? I can go?"

She didn't bolt right away, though. She was way too close to him, and that earlier struggle had fully convinced her of one thing-this guy was insanely strong. Even if she ran, she'd be caught before she made it to the door. And let's be real, that would piss him off even more.

"Of course..." Prescott's voice was soft but carried a wicked undertone as his eyes narrowed slightly. "You can't."

Camila froze.

Seriously? Was he messing with her on purpose?

She didn't even know this guy, everything had been a total mistake, and they already clarified it. Why wouldn't he let her leave?

That unreadable gaze of his-it was like a bottomless pit-that only made her more uneasy.

Then, just as he turned away, cold and towering, something inside her snapped. Without thinking, she grabbed the nearest wine bottle on the table and hurled it at his back.

The room fell totally silent.

No one expected her to go that far. Not even Prescott. Everyone was frozen for a beat.

Now or never.

Camila clenched her teeth and darted for the door. Thank God she'd done horseback riding for years-her legs might look slim, but they packed serious power-and in just seconds she was out of the room.

Inside the elevator, Camila was breathless, heart pounding. Her phone buzzed.

Kendall Garland.

She quickly picked up, and Kendall's voice came through, slightly hoarse from when she'd been crying to Camila earlier: "Camila, did you seriously go to Room 2388 at Imperial Crest?"

Camila frowned. "2388? I thought it was 3288."

Up until now, she'd been convinced she'd just waltzed into the wrong room, thinking the number was 3288.

"No, it's definitely 2388, on the 23rd floor! 3288 is on the top floor-the presidential suite. That place is exclusive, like, VIP-only territory. Oh my god, Camila, please tell me you didn't actually go into 3288?!"

Thinking about everything that had happened, Camila didn't want to drag Kendall into this mess, so she quickly denied it. "Of course not. I haven't even gotten there yet. I..."

Before she could finish, the elevator shook violently beneath her feet, jerking her into a shriek.

"Hello? Camila? What's going on?! Hello?!"

Call disconnected.

The elevator jolted for a moment before finally settling down.

Camila wiped the cold sweat from her forehead and reached out to press the button - nothing. She tried again and again, but it stayed dead.

"You've gotta be kidding me... seriously?" Camila felt like crying.

She hadn't done anything wrong lately, so why did she have to run into a freaking elevator malfunction?

Pulling out her phone, she tried calling for help, but when the screen lit up, it showed - no signal.

As she stared blankly at the screen in disbelief, the elevator doors creaked open.

Her eyes lit up. Was she saved?

Then she saw the man standing in front of her - and all the color drained from her face.

"You... what are you doing here?" Her voice trembled.

The elevator had just hit the third floor - she'd almost made it out - yet here he was, having somehow stopped the elevator at exactly this point. How the hell did he even know she was in this elevator?

There were several elevators in Imperial Crest Hotel. She'd even purposely picked one far from room 3288. For him to catch her with such precision, he had to have been watching the security feeds...

And surveillance in a place like Imperial Crest? Not something just anyone had access to.

This place was a six-star hotel chain that had exploded onto the scene in recent years, racking up locations around the world. Nobody knew who actually owned it, but its background was rumored to be powerful - like don't-mess-with-it powerful.

Which made the man in front of her all the more terrifying.

"Surprised?"

Prescott leaned lazily against the doorway, lips curled in a faint smirk that didn't reach his eyes. His whole vibe - icy and unreadable.

If he hadn't dodged in time earlier, it wouldn't have just been a splash of wine - she'd hurled that bottle hard enough to leave serious damage. And she dared to aim it at him? She had guts.

Camila's heart lurched. "D-Don't come any closer..."

Regret slammed in fast and hard. If she'd just kept her cool a little, this disaster wouldn't have happened.

She'd never actually met Kendall's boyfriend, but from what Kendall had told her, he was just some minor rich kid-no way he could have that kind of terrifying presence.

And the 3288 presidential suite? There's no way she could've mixed that up... not if she'd been paying even a little attention.

Prescott strolled into the elevator, calm and poised, as if absolutely nothing could touch him. The kind of guy who took control the moment he stepped into a room.

"Feeling scared now? Too late," he said, tone low and icy. "You're the first - and the last - person to ever throw wine at me."

His voice sent a chill through her bones.

Last person? Wait. What was that supposed to mean?

He... couldn't seriously be planning to kill her in here, right?

The doors slid shut. The small elevator was instantly filled with his imposing presence, shadows stretching with the silence.

Camila could barely breathe. The fear in her chest was growing.

"W-What are you doing? I-I already called my friend! If I'm not out of this hotel in ten minutes, they're calling the cops-"

"Cops?" Prescott let out a low, sarcastic laugh, amused by how naive she sounded.

"With that much nerve? Now I'm really starting to wonder who you are. Maybe it'd be better if I... helped you talk," he said, voice dark with teasing menace.

Before she could respond, a sleek handgun appeared in his hand like magic.

Her eyes widened in terror.

Prescott smirked, the gun pressed to her collarbone, slowly trailing downward, following the frantic rise and fall of her breathing...